


Hail The King

by darkforetold



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blackwatch Era, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Mission Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-18 12:25:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13681647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkforetold/pseuds/darkforetold
Summary: Jesse is king.His smile was a snake of a thing, sly yet deadly all the same. It died in their sweet, almost chaste kiss, and Jesse swung his leg over Gabe’s lap, straddling him, placing yet another too-simple kiss against his mouth. Gabe stilled under the bitter sweetness, and Jesse chuckled deep in his throat, taking off Gabe’s glasses and setting them aside. Another kiss, this time punishing, crushed against his mouth. Gabe took in a thready breath.“You may be the hero of the Omnic Crisis, sweetheart,” Jesse drawled, peppering another sweet kiss on him before everything turned ugly. He grabbed Gabe throat and squeezed. “But here, I’m king. Don’t question me.”





	Hail The King

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rosewrought](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosewrought/gifts).



> I love you, @rosewrought. Thank you for being my beta and my friend.
> 
> Day 3: First Valentine's

A rain of bullets thundered and struck the overturned hover car he and Gabe were crouched behind. The air smelled smoky and acidic, and something somewhere exploded. Gabe put a finger to his ear piece. “Balcones, we’re taking heavy fire. Flush them out!”

_“You got it, boss,”_ crackled over comms.

Gabe turned and looked Jesse over. “You all right?”

“All right?” Jesse echoed, chewing at the end of his cigar. His smile was wide. “Feelin’ right at home, darlin’.”

Inside, he was quaking with nerves and the grip of his revolver felt slick against his sweaty palm. Gabe could read the lie on his face if his smirk was any indication, had always known his tells from the very first day they’d met. The fact that Jesse tried to lie to him…

He gave Gabe an apologetic smile—and another sweep of bullets rattled their makeshift shield. The ensuing threat didn’t stop Gabe from leaning in, kissing his temple and shouting, “I won’t let anything happen to you,” over the cacophony of noise and danger.

Jesse shelved his bravado and nodded, then opened his mouth—

Balcones cackled over comms and let his Gatling gun loose.

”I can’t fuckin’ believe you gave Balcones that thing.”

Gabe gave him a cheeky shrug, then edged to the bumper of their flimsy cover. A bullet whizzed by and dug into the ground where Gabe’s boot had been, would’ve shot it off too had he not had the foresight to back up. Fucking SEP.

_“Stay here, McCree,”_ Gabe said over comms. _“When the coast is clear, make a beeline to Balcones. Understood?”_

_“Acknowledged.”_

Gabe turned over a shoulder and shouted, “I mean it, Jesse. Stay here and don’t get hurt. Promise?”

“Promise.”

Jesse watched him go, bolt out from behind their cover like a bat out of hell and into the chaos. For a man of his size, Gabe dove and rolled in a way that was too elegant, too beautiful to be entirely human—right into a nearly burned out convenience store. All around him… complete, utter devastation. Hover cars perforated with holes, a column of smoke and fire. Confusion around every corner. Jesse was in over his head.

He leaned his back against the underside of the car and breathed in, steady and slow, just like Gabe had taught him. Sure, he’d been in fire fights before—hell, he’d been in a ton of them. But none of them involved such heavy artillery or overwhelming odds. With Deadlock, he’d had a shit ton of men surrounding him at any given turn and at every hold up, like a swarm of angry, disheveled bees. Here, with Blackwatch, only Jesse, Gabe and Balcones had gone after the kidnappers, and the mission had gone to hell six ways from Sunday despite Gabe’s careful planning.

Jesse flinched as a bullet thudded an inch from his face and threw himself to the ground. He wondered if he was still too green for this (he’d only been cleared for active duty just recently), and if he’d been the reason everything had fucked up so badly. Or maybe—

Something else exploded, and Balcones laughed.

—that was just how Blackwatch missions went.

The comm line buzzed to life with Gabe’s angry voice. _“For fuck’s sake, Balcones. Minimal damage. You want to debrief Morrison?”_ No answer. _“Shit. They’re on the move. Secure us a getaway vehicle!”_

_“Got it already, boss. Black Toyota Land Cruiser. Southwest of your location,”_ Balcones answered.

_“I said a vehicle, not a museum exhibit!”_

_“It’s vintage!”_

Gabe sighed aggressively and it cut through comms like a serrated knife. _“McCree, you heard Balcones. Get your ass going, on the double!”_

_“‘M on it,”_ Jesse said. Gabe didn’t need to tell him to be careful; he could hear it in the urgent, nearly desperate note in his voice. He, too, had learned his commander’s little tells.

And that's why Jesse moved like he did, quick and sure-footed, skipping over open power lines, debris and stone. He wasn't afraid of dying; he was afraid of waking up to see the disappointment on Gabe’s face because he hadn't been smart enough to listen to him. Worse, he was afraid of waking up to find he'd fucked up so badly that Gabe didn't want him anymore.

So he moved with the smoke-thick wind, careening over shapes and angles he couldn't quite see, to find the black stallion of a Land Cruiser gleaming in the sickly light. Jesse hauled open the door of the back seat, climbed up inside and—

Gabe yanked open the door before he could shut it. Seeing Gabe still breathing—Jesse’s relief rose up in his chest so full and overwhelming that he reached out and grabbed Gabe’s arm to make sure he was real. Jesse looked over him for holes, but Gabe just smiled. “I'm okay.”

And that was all he needed to know.

“You okay?”

Jesse smiled so big he thought his mouth might shatter. “Yeah. Real good.”

They smiled at each other for what seemed like an eternity, then Gabe frowned and shot a glare at Balcones. “Drive.”

Balcones just grinned. Had he been watching them? “You got it, boss. Seat belts.”

Before they could ask why, Balcones gunned it and the ancient car lurched forward with all its might, eating into the ground and spitting out rocks in its wake. The metallic beast jolted and turned with every careless twist of the steering wheel.

They hung on for dear life.

“Hey,” Gabe whispered. “Got you something.”

Jesse clutched the oh-shit bar above his head when Balcones took a particularly devilish turn in his bad-guy-chasing crusade. As an afterthought, Jesse looked over—to find a rose fragrant and in his face. Jesse looked at Gabe wide-eyed. “Where in the hell d’you find that?”

Gabe shrugged. “In the store. Couldn't go the whole day without finding you something.”

“Why?”

“It's Valentine's Day,” Gabe deadpanned, like Jesse should have known.

“You sayin’ you risked your fuckin’ life for a goddamn rose because it's Valentine's Day?”

Gabe's grin wasn't anything short of miraculous.

Jesse smelled it, then gave him a hooded look. “You romantic sonuvabitch.”

Gabe winked and careened closer when Balcones twisted the car. They came crashing together, and Gabe took that exact moment to land a kiss square on his lips.

“Not in the car, goddamnit,” Balcones hissed. “You know how I get with romantic shit.”

“You choking back a tear, big guy?” Gabe teased.

“Maybe,” came the grumble back. “Reminds me of my favorite romcom—”

“Save it, Balcones,” Gabe grunted.

Because the guy, despite his clean-shaven head, huge stature and even thicker corded muscles, couldn't deny himself his guiltiest pleasure: romantic comedies, romance, and anything sappy. A fucking sentimental card was enough to open the flood gates, and Jesse loved that about him. What he didn’t love—Jesse hissed when he knocked his head into his window—was his fucking driving.

“Y’mind?”

“Gotta get the bad guys, little buddy,” Balcones answered, swerving again.

“Yeah, but you ain’t gotta break us,” Jesse groused, rubbing his face. “Where’d you get this thing anyway?”

“The museum.”

Gabe and Balcones snorted together before Gabe leaned up between the seats and pointed. “There they are. Get them. Do whatever you have to. Jesse? Hold on.”

They held on while Balcones zigzagged in and out of traffic, narrowly missing hover cars and delivery trucks, yet somehow weaving through with as much ease and simplicity as a sewing needle might glide through fabric. An ill-aimed shot shattered one of the sideview mirrors, and the shitfest of chaos, honking horns, and skidding vehicles worsened around them.

“Coming up on our right,” Gabe said. “Switch seats.”

Jesse scooted, lifted and climbed over Gabe in a way that, for the briefest moments, had them touching almost too closely, too intimately. It settled his nerves enough, grounded him, and without needing to be told, Jesse rolled down the window, steadied his aim, and took a shot. The hover car’s power core burst into sparks, then flames, and sent the vehicle skittering across two lanes of traffic, to idle listlessly in a ditch a few yards ahead of them. Balcones beelined toward the downed hover car in time to see four of their targets jump out, scatter and—

Pressure built up in his head, increasingly painful, narrowing his vision to mere pinpoints, his revolver steady. The honking of horns faded away and the chaos melted into a single window of peace, stillness—then violence as Jesse shot off four bullets, perfectly aimed, each taking down their intended target. Something warm oozed down his face, and he knew without looking, without tasting it, that it was his blood, coming from his nose.

“You okay?”

His ears rang, and he turned a squinted eye to Gabe. “Yeah. Fuckin’ hurts though.”

Gabe handed him something to blot his nose with, then climbed over him as Balcones stopped the car next to the motionless vehicle. Before Jesse could complain, Gabe had snatched his revolver from him, reloaded, and marched over to the driver’s side of the car. Held the gun level, then shot. The sound thundered across the sky.

Jesse and Balcones traded looks and clambered out. Morrison wanted at least one alive for questioning. Now, with the driver dead—

“My finger must’ve slipped,” Gabe said wryly to the question on their faces.

Jesse frowned and took his revolver back when Gabe gave it to him. “Uh huh, and the report?”

“Stray bullet.” Gabe didn’t explain further.

Jesse watched Gabe whip open the passenger’s side door and bend at the waist to peer inside. Where Gabe’s expression hard been hard and commanding, showing strength, power and dominance, it melted into something soft. Unguarded. Completely vulnerable.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Gabe whispered. His voice was… heavenly, gentle. A tone he used for more delicate situations; speaking to victims or the families of deceased loved ones, or on the rare occasion an agent needed a pep talk that would change their life.

“My name’s Gabriel Reyes,” Gabriel continued. “Commander of Overwatch.” Not Blackwatch, because even to the victims, they didn’t exist. “Your father sent us.”

“Overwatch?” a young voice said. “Daddy?”

Gabe smiled and held out his hand. A small hand reached and touched his, then grabbed it hard, going with the motion as Gabe pulled a little girl—not even twelve years old—out of the car. Her clothes were ratty, stained, ripped in places. Her angelic face was smudged, bruised. Jesse couldn’t bear to think of the abuse she’d been through—and maybe that was why Gabe shot the driver point-blank.

“Up you go.”

The little girl clung to Gabe as he hoisted her up like a doll, her skinny arms slung over his neck, legs wrapped around him. She’d never let him go given the choice, not after what she’d been through. She gave Jesse a wary look as Gabe made his way over to him, the girl nestled in his arms. He spoke easy, calm, and lightly into her matted hair. “This is Jesse. He’s going to take care of you until we get you back to your father. Sound good?”

Jesse tipped his hat. “Ma’am.”

The girl looked at Gabe and asked in a small voice, “Where will you be?”

“Right here,” Gabe said, without missing a beat. “Within eyesight.” He indicated with two fingers between his eyes and hers. “I promise.”

Jesse took the girl from Gabe, and within moments, they were piled back in the car with Balcones driving and Gabe reporting in from the front seat. _“Reyes reporting.”_

_“I read you,”_ Laurentiis crackled over comms.

_“Hostiles down, objective secured. Tell the UN Chief of Staff we got his daughter back.”_

_“She okay, Reyes?”_

Gabe looked in the rearview mirror back at them. _“You know that Chicken Quesadilla Soup even picky-ass Morrison loves? She’s going to need some of that. Hey, and that tea you and Ana can’t stop talking about.”_

_“You got it, sir. Ready for extraction?”_

_“Think we’ve been ready,”_ Gabe answered. _“Send down the coordinates. Reyes out.”_

“Are we going home?” the girl asked Jesse in a hushed voice.

“Yeah, darlin’. We’re goin’ home.”

:::

He nursed his usual post-Deadeye headache through the debrief with Morrison then ducked away as soon as he was able, seeking shelter in a room that’d recently become his too: Gabe’s private quarters. Quietly, Jesse opened the door and tiptoed in—then took a step back in surprise. Several lit candles glittered on Gabe’s nightstand, the windowsill, and Gabe was in bed, chest bare, with the sheets up to his waist. He should’ve been a little hurt that Gabe hadn’t looked up from his tablet, but he couldn’t. Not when Gabe had been so… fucking romantic with everything, not with Gabe’s reading glasses, perched on his nose, reminding him how much he fucking loved them, and how sexy Gabe looked wearing them. Reminded him, too, of how much he’d fallen in love with him.

A grin blossomed over his mouth as he crept closer, and only when the floorboards creaked did Gabe even acknowledge he was there. “How was Morrison?”

And it was about work, of course.

“Pissed.”

“And the girl?”

Jesse peeled off every inch of clothing and crawled into bed. “In Laurentiis’ lovin’ care. Reckon I heard the little tyke laugh too.”

“What about you, Jesse?” Gabe finally looked at him, his tone infinitely warmer. “You get checked out by Ziegler?”

“Yes,” Jesse plucked the tablet from Gabe’s hands. Whatever his report was about? It could wait. “Fit as a fiddle.”

Jesse leaned in and tucked a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“Jesse…” His name was a prayer against his skin. “When are you going to learn you can’t lie to me?”

That stopped him dead cold, and Jesse eased back to look Gabe. There was a disappointed glint in his eyes, and it killed Jesse to stare at him—so he looked away. But Gabe wouldn’t let him, turning his chin with a soft fingertip.

“When I tell you to do something, I expect you to do it. Regardless of what you think. If I tell you to shoot someone in the face, you’ll do it, no questions asked. And when I tell you to get checked out by Ziegler, I expect you to follow orders. Am I understood?”

“Yes, sir.” Jesse heard himself saying, eyes downcast, voice wounded. “’M sorry.”

“I don’t want your apologies, Jesse. I want your compliance. Don’t question me, especially not out on the field.”

He meant the driver, the ruthless way he’d shot him point-blank, the fact that he’d questioned him in front of Balcones. Jesse bit his bottom lip. He wanted to say he wouldn’t be his lap dog, but couldn’t, and it was a secret he’d keep guarded, close to his chest, until he was secure in Blackwatch, until he knew Gabe wouldn’t cast him out and end their relationship because he’d gotten too mouthy.

“Look.” Gabe sighed. “I just care about you, okay? I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you. I’m sorry for being harsh.” He brushed a knuckle against his cheek. “I just need you to understand how important this is.”

“I understand you, clear as day,” Jesse bit out, then leveled him with a glare. “Which is why you need to be followin’ your own damn advice. That stunt you pulled today? Gettin’ me a rose of all things? I appreciate it an’all, but if you do somethin’ that dumb again, you’re gonna hear about it. Don’t go gettin’ hurt on my account, y’hear? We ain’t no different. You get hurt ‘cause of me and that’s on my head. Clear?”

“Crystal,” Gabe said easily.

“Good. Now, fuck me. Let’s end this Valentine’s right.”

Gabe’s brows shot up. The surprise was evident on his face. Jesse always did the fucking, said he didn’t like getting fucked because, the one time he had in Deadlock, it hadn’t been pleasant at all. In fact, he’d hated it.

“Jesse, you don’t have to do this.”

His smile was a snake of a thing, sly yet deadly all the same. It died in their sweet, almost chaste kiss, and Jesse swung his leg over Gabe’s lap, straddling him, placing yet another too-simple kiss against his mouth. Gabe stilled under the bitter sweetness, and Jesse chuckled deep in his throat, taking off Gabe’s glasses and setting them aside. Another kiss, this time punishing, crushed against his mouth. Gabe took in a thready breath.

“You may be the hero of the Omnic Crisis, sweetheart,” Jesse drawled, peppering another sweet kiss on him before everything turned ugly. He grabbed Gabe throat and squeezed. “But here, I’m king. Don’t question me.”

Gabe tilted his head back and gasped, the sound a sweet mix of pain and pleasure. Beneath him, Gabe thickened, harder than Jesse had ever felt him, and jerked his hips up, seeking friction. Jesse ground his hips down hard, ruthless, while the vice of his fingers cut off Gabe’s air supply. Jesse leaned forward, kissed his cheekbone, then whispered, “You goin’ to be a good boy for me? Or am I gonna have t’punish you?” in his ear.

Something changed. He could feel it in the air, colder somehow, before his world was flipped. Quicker than he could register, Jesse was on his back, wrists locked over his head. He stared into Gabe’s brown-black eyes, dark with arousal. Jesse knew then that his boyish little show of dominance was over, that Gabe didn’t feel like humoring him tonight. That he was, in fact, the god in their little church of sin.

“You let me know if this gets too much for you, sweetheart,” Gabriel whispered dark against his throat.

Jesse arched his back when Gabe slammed his hips into him, the friction so good, so fucking hard, that he nearly shattered. He groaned when Gabe sucked a possessive mark onto his collarbone, panted as a nip of teeth shot pain over his skin. Jesse couldn’t help but undulate his body, grinding against Gabe in ways that were sinful. Gabe grabbed two handfuls of his ass and helped him along, deepening his thrusts to the point they almost hurt. He was desperate for Gabe to fuck him, needed it. It was all he could think of.

That moment of pure desperation, of needing him to split him wide open, was the moment Jesse wiggled out from under Gabe. He was naked without his warmth, his weight, and almost whimpered with it on his way to grab the lube out of the top drawer. He popped the cap and sought Gabe’s shelter again, welcomed by Gabe’s possessive hands. Soft fingers bumping over his ribs, his hip bones, the tight formation of his abs, brushing delicately over the tops of his thighs, across his biceps. Anywhere he could touch, as if Gabe were searching for something.

Then it dawned on him.

“I ain’t got any holes in me, goddamnit. Stop searchin’. I’m fine.”

Because he’d never gotten checked out by Ziegler, and despite Gabe needing to fuck him, his need to take care of Jesse circumvented everything else.

Jesse batted his hands away, ignoring Gabe’s smirk while Jesse slicked his fingers and teased at his own eager hole. He’d fuck himself open, ready himself for Gabe’s massive dick—that was the intent anyway. But Gabe had other plans. He snatched the lube from Jesse and slicked his fingers too, pressing in deep where Jesse’s fingers teased, helping Jesse spread him wide open.

“Fuck.”

He groaned and fucked himself raw on their fingers, riding back hard, thrilling at the feeling of both of them inside him. His hard dick, red and straining, rubbed against Gabe’s muscled chest, and the overstimulation had him whimpering. Gabe surged forward and kissed his neck, the underside of his jaw, nipped at the delicate skin just below his earlobe. That pinprick of pain spurned him on again, it always did, and Jesse fucked their fingers until his thighs began to quake. With them, foreplay always seemed to last forever—Gabe always gentle, patient, giving.

But not tonight.

Gabe tore his fingers away and jerked Jesse’s legs around him, bringing his hips flush to Jesse’s in a way that was crushing. Amid the take, take, take of Gabe’s hands, the ravenous hunger of his hips, the eager thickness of his large dick, there was a softness to him. Gabe’s gorgeous brown eyes seemed to ask for permission, and Jesse nodded, grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him in for another kiss. He felt Gabe’s hand slip between their bodies to line his dick up, and his eyes asked again.

Jesse arched his back, wanton, and whispered, “Fuck me, Gabe.”

It was all the permission Gabe needed.

Gabe pressed in slowly, and Jesse took a deep breath and held it while the burn spread him wider than he’d thought possible. The strain must’ve shown on his face because Gabe stopped immediately and cupped Jesse’s face with gentle hands. “Am I hurting you? Should we stop?”

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare,” Jesse rasped. “Let me just… ah!—I need to adjust. You ain’t exactly a twig if you catch my meanin’. Ju—fuck—just go slow, darlin’.”

Gabe inched his way inside, stopping when Jesse needed it, when the burn slipped into pain. Then, pleasure eased in along the edges, seeping in to fill him completely. Suddenly, he couldn’t stand that Gabe wasn’t moving and jerked Gabe into him with his heels. The initial thrust sent sparks rushing up his spine, and Jesse groaned with it—and that was all it took for Gabe to fuck him proper, hard, eager, like he was a teenager ready to pop. Every single time Gabe fucked into him, something hot and urgent built up inside him. He clung to Gabe’s broad shoulders as Gabe buried his face into his neck, fucking him, grunting little cut-off noises into his skin. Their pace turned erratic, desperate, then Gabe tapered it off with a bewildering amount of control, turning their hard fucking into a languid, shallow roll of his hips. And fuck, it rendered him a needy mess, Jesse whispering sweet into his ear, about how much he needed him and needed him now. It set fire to their everything, and Gabe fucked into him like he might burst any second. Getting fucked by him, watching Gabe’s dick plunge into him over and over—Jesse shouted as his climax hit him and he dragged Gabe with him, down, down, until they both laid there, sticky, panting, and completely blissed out.

Jesse stared at the ceiling, waiting until his breath leveled out, then said, “This what you feel like every time I fuck you? Happier than you ever been?”

“Like I’m invincible?” Gabe nodded. “Exactly.”

“Might have t’let you fuck me more often than never then because—“ Jesse blew out a breath. “Ain’t nothin’ like it.” Jesse looked over at him. “Best First Valentine’s ever.”

“To many more,” Gabe whispered between them.

They kissed, and Jesse couldn’t imagine being any happier.


End file.
